The sun rose over Thelara not as it always did, but as if it had been waiting for this very day — a golden dawn gilded in celebration. The city, now a jewel of civilization, thrummed with life as morning bells rang through the valley. Birds spiraled in harmony overhead, as mana wisps lit the skies in a gentle azure glow, dancing like lanterns in celebration. Magical orbs drifted above the streets, bursting into soft showers of flower petals every few minutes, creating a scent of blooming roses and springtime air.
The city had never looked more alive. Floating platforms carried arriving guests from the city gates to the ceremonial grounds. The grand plaza — newly built at the center of Thelara — had transformed overnight into a sacred palace of light. Its marble steps gleamed with enchantments, and arcane sigils pulsed like a heartbeat beneath the floor. A magical veil of sky-glass arched overhead, refracting sunlight into rainbows that shifted with the wind.
Thousands had gathered, from scholars to peasants, nobles to adventurers. The kings of the five major cities stood as honored guests under banners embroidered in golden thread. Each wore garments of their culture: flowing silks, shimmering robes, battle-wrought cloaks adorned with runes.
Scarlet had asked for a ceremony that combined the world of old and new — fantasy and function — and Nova had delivered. A symphony played not with instruments alone, but with sound-magic, echoing the strings of violins and the hum of crystal chimes.
Mechanical birds, powered by mana cores and ancient gears, flew across the sky releasing ribbons that cascaded down like falling stars. Druidic vines wrapped the altar in blooming white lotus, glowing faintly under the energy of the Orbs of Blessing placed in the four cardinal corners.
High above, six floating towers of light kept watch — constructed with Nova's system interface and Lio's strategic energy engineering. Each tower was an eye, keeping monsters at bay and shielding the entire event under a translucent magical dome that shimmered like the sky itself.
Children released crystal butterflies that flitted across the garden paths, their wings refracting the light like living jewels. Everything had come together like a dream. This was no ordinary wedding. It was a moment that would echo through generations.
And then, silence fell as she stepped forward.
Scarlet.
Her name alone brought gasps from the crowd, but her appearance rendered them speechless. She wore a gown the color of a rose blooming at midnight—deep crimson with a shimmer of gold lining that rippled like sunlight on water. The bodice was woven from elven silk, enchanted to flow like liquid flame, hugging her figure with elegance and grace. The lower hem trailed behind her like a royal river of fire and petal.
Her hair, once the color of a quiet forest flame, had been curled into soft waves, adorned with star-shaped pins forged from Quban silver. A single rose was tucked behind her ear. Her eyes, always fierce, were now softened by joy, glowing like dawn over a mountain peak. On her arms were runes in the old language of her people—a sign of her lineage and her acceptance of her future.
She was a vision. A goddess. A warrior wrapped in the gentleness of love.
Nova saw her and forgot how to breathe.
Time slowed. Everything in his vision blurred, except her.
He'd seen Scarlet at her most powerful, her most brutal. But this—this purity of beauty, this quiet radiance—it made his chest ache.
"You look like the first light of a world that never knew sorrow," he whispered as she stepped toward him.
He was dressed in royal attire forged by the finest tailors of Thelara. Midnight black threads embroidered with golden constellations traced the length of his robe. A deep crimson cape flowed behind him, held by a brooch carved from a meteorite. His boots were sleek, enchanted with silent step. On his belt, the crest of Thelara shimmered with every breath.
His hair was combed back with streaks of silver thread woven through the dark strands, his eyes as calm and fierce as the man he had become.
Scarlet, upon seeing him, felt her heart catch.
This is the man I chose. The man who rebuilt the world with his pain. The man who built me a future...
She reached for his hand, and when their fingers touched, the city held its breath.
The kings arrived in order:
King John of Martha, regal in his obsidian-and-emerald cloak, brought with him a crown forged from the oldest tree of the sacred grove. "For the couple who nurtures nations as they would flowers," he said.
Queen Lethira of Zeba followed, gifting a phoenix gem said to burn eternally—symbol of passion, rebirth, and love.
King Varn of Torent stepped forward, offering a blade not for war, but honor. "Let this hang above your hearth, to remind you that strength must always protect peace."
Elder Yuiren of Quban, the ancient elven mage, presented a crystal of memory—a sphere containing recorded blessings from every corner of his kingdom.
King Dathros of Ethelifa, a stoic man of logic, offered them a library core—a sphere containing all of Ethelifa's history and magical records.
Then, with the sky alight in color, the ceremony began.
The High Priest of Thelara stood beneath the altar arch. He raised his hands, and golden circles of magic appeared behind him like halos.
"Nova. Scarlet. Before all, do you swear your love eternal? To walk beside each other through every path, storm, and silence?"
Their voices, in perfect harmony, said: "We do."
"Then by the stars above and the roots below, be bound as one."
The moment their lips met, magic erupted in a shockwave of petals and light. Bells rang across the city. The people roared in celebration. Fireworks lit the sky in spiraling arcs of gold and red.
The union was complete.
But even as laughter filled the air and toasts echoed through halls, far away, in a distant stone keep beneath shadowed clouds, a cloaked figure stood before a war map.
His eyes narrowed on the name Thelara. His gloved hand hovered over it, and with a tap, the piece marked "Nova" fell.
One of the two kingdoms who refused the road had now begun to move.
The age of peace may not last long...